


can't help but feel like i've lost what's mine

by orphan_account



Category: Trollhunters (Cartoon)
Genre: Alternate Canon, F/M, Headcanon, brief brief mention of strickler, honestly this wasn't meant to be shippy but woops, mentions of angor rot, minor descriptions of burning, someone help jim, spoilers for episode 17, toby and blinky are mostly background, you can totally see it as platonic if u want tho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-05
Updated: 2017-02-05
Packaged: 2018-09-22 04:21:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9583400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: what if angor rot's markings were permanent?(someone please help my boy)





	

**Author's Note:**

> something i genuinely thought was gonna happen, like, even the next episode when his face was ok i thought claire had covered it with makeup  
> i love this show with all my heart and someone needs to protect my boy jim, but that someones not gonna be me lol  
> anyways this is my first fic on ao3 and it's a silly little idea i had that wouldn't go away  
> i hope this is a ok and u enjoy !!
> 
> titles from troye sivan's "suburbia"

The marking hurt.

It had scalded into his skin, and he had winced as far as the trap would let him. Jim could feel the lines Angor Rot had traced into his flesh quite clearly, as if it had been painted on. Though instead of being cold globs, it was thin, blistering lines. He wasn’t great with metaphors at the moment, but could you really blame him? He didn’t know what else Angor had planned to do him, and frankly, he really didn’t want to know.

After Blinky had explained what the scars meant, Jim had been pretty terrified. Which he supposed was a good thing, rule number 1 and all. Though, he wasn’t able to shake it off that easily.

“When will it disappear?” Jim asked, gesturing wildly with his hands. He was breathing heavily, which honestly, no one could blame him for. His face still burned.

“I’m,” Blinky paused, looking away nervously. He tapped his fingers together and heaved out a breath, “I’m afraid that the marking doesn’t necessarily go away. This is Angor Rot’s way of presenting to the world that you are doomed to perish by his hand.” He must’ve caught the panicked look on Jim’s face, as he was quick to his attempts to sooth, “But, Master Jim, you’ve done a lot of the impossible in your time of being Trollhunter, and we will be here to help shield you until Angor Rot makes his attack.”

Everyone was silent for a moment, letting what had just happened truly sink in. This wasn’t something he could lie about. This wasn’t something he could just shake off.

“At least it looks cool, dude,” Toby tried, with a little laugh.

“How will I explain this to everyone?” Jim asked in a small voice, “’Hey everyone! Check out this sick tat that _glows_ and also I got when I’m still in high school! Hey Mom! Oh _this?_ ’” He points to his face, his tone getting progressively louder and angrier, “’Don’t worry, I just got _scarred for life_ by, I don’t know, a gang that has a weird obsession with carving patterns into half of someone’s _face!_ ’”

His last word had been punctuated by a stomp that had his three friends flinching, and he immediately regretted his outburst. Jim sighed out an apology and sunk to the ground, pulling out his phone and opening the camera to examine the markings. Tobes and Claire sat flanking him, trying to give him some semblance of comfort. Jim groaned as he realized through the intricacy and the quite obvious yellow glow that this actually wasn’t something he could just brush off or hide. Despite the words he had uttered earlier, he had kind of hoped that it wouldn’t be that severe.

“How am I going to hide this?” Jim asked mostly himself. He let his hand graze his cheek, and flinched slightly. The burn was steadily lessening, at least.

“There could be a troll talisman or something that hides it! Or you could wear your hood all day so it covers some of your face,” Tobes suggested. Jim faintly smiled.

“Oh,” Claire gasped, then took Jim’s chin gently and moved it so he was looking at her, “Lemme get a look at that. It’s not like, engraved or anything? Or swollen?”

“No, it’s just, uh, just lines I guess. Drawings,” Jim answered, a bit taken off guard, “Permanent drawings.” His shoulders sagged a bit.

“You’ve gotta admit, it does look pretty cool though,” Tobes piped up, and Jim huffed out a chuckle.

“Yeah, yeah. I guess it does,” Jim said. Blinky smiled at the lightening mood, and sat down next to Claire, peering at Angor’s markings curiously.

“I have an idea,” Claire tilted Jim’s face a bit more, “Can I touch it?” Jim nodded his head slightly, his cheeks dusting red. She traced part of it with her fingertip, but pulled back when she got to the ridge of Jim’s nose, where he flinched back with a hiss.

“I think the hard parts of my face that were marked hurt for longer,” Jim mentioned. His cheek had been fine when she had touched it.

“It’s not swelling, like scratches that don’t break skin do, but it’s not cut in either, so if I put some foundation on you then it should cover it up,” Claire squeezed his shoulder, though Jim couldn’t feel it through his armor.

“Foundation? Like makeup?” Toby asked, though he didn’t sound accusatory. He sounded genuinely curious.

“Yeah, like makeup. I’m pretty sure our skin tones are close enough in shade, so I can put enough on that it won’t be a drastic change in color, but it should cover up the glow, too.” She smirked, “You can sneak in through the window.”

Claire rises, and starts walking back down the hill in the moonlight. Blinky follows suit, while Tobes helps Jim up. He leans in and whispers to him, “We’re so lucky we got a chick on the team.”

-

Blinky and Tobes had walked them to Claire’s house, and then they bid them goodbye, Toby with a nudge, wink, and a thumbs up. Jim only rolled his eyes.

Claire went in through the front door, giving an excuse smoothly to her parents why she was out so late, and Jim couldn’t help but feel a twinge of jealously at how well that went. He always struggled when lying to his mom. Hell, he didn’t know what he was going to tell her when he got home from Claire’s. Maybe he could say he was studying with her.

His pondering was cut short by the sound of the window opening. Jim emerged warily from his hiding position in the bushes, in case her parents had gestured outside or something while talking with Claire. He scaled the building easily, and crawled in. He very nearly fell on his face when stumbling in, but managed to roll and land flat on his back instead. Better than landing on Angor’s markings.

“Okay,” Claire started, already digging through the drawers of her vanity, “I don’t use foundation often, usually only for formal events or parties or something, but I know it’s here somewhere,” Jim sat up, touching his nose gingerly to see if it still hurt. There was only a slight sting, so he shrugged it off. “Aha!” Claire proclaimed, whirling around and reaching a hand out to help Jim up.

He accepted and was pulled up effortlessly as Claire spun back around to grab a hand mirror. She offered it to him and gestured for him to sit down on her bed once he took it. Jim couldn’t stop ogling the glowing patterns that marked him for death. He sagged, and his lips settled into a strained thin line. The implications of the markings hit him like a truck, and his brows furrowed. The dim yellow light seemed to react to his emotions, like the amulet, as it only glowed brighter.

Not here, not in front of Claire. Sure, stress had gotten to him before and he had broken down, and there was no shame in that, but there _was_ shame when it was in front of a girl you liked. His vision blurred, and an involuntary sniffle blew his cover of being okay with this. He always shook things like this off. He had always managed to escape.

But this wasn’t temporary. A constant glaring reminder was here, and he didn’t know if it would go away even if they defeated Angor Rot. Even if they covered it up, it was still always there. He knew it was. He could feel it. It wasn’t easy to forget, or brush off, or simply accept the trap he had fallen into, or the scalding of Angor’s mark spreading across his face, and him not even being able to call for help-!

He hid his face in his arm, trying to control the heaving of his chest. Rule number 1, always be afraid, he knew that. But it would be nice if he could try to forget about that fear for once since this had all started. Jim felt the bed move, and he knew it was Claire crawling up to be next to him. He realized he had pushed himself back against the wall, and had pulled his knees up to his chest.

“Hey Jim,” Claire said, her voice gentle, “Jim, it’s alright.” She shuffled around to be in front of him, and carefully took hold of his forearms, “Hey, look at me.”

She pulled his forearms down and away from his eyes, and he let her. Angor’s marking was a brilliant yellow, and he knew because of the way Claire’s face was illuminated too, and his body was racked with another sob. It was the type of sob that shook your whole body uncontrollably, and made you duck your head down, and squeeze your eyes shut. Jim was very good at not making noise though, the sounds that did come out were breathy and shaking. Claire felt herself wilt a little.

“Look at me,” Claire repeated. Jim looked up, hesitantly. “I know you’re afraid. I’m afraid too, for you. I don’t want anything to happen to you. We won’t let anything happen to you, okay? I know you’re always in danger, and always have millions of things going on, and it’s hard, but we all believe in you. The amulet chose you for a reason.”

“I can’t even keep it together in front of you,” Jim mumbles, through shaky breaths.

“Who cares? You’re going through… a lot. I mean, being a protector for both man and troll kind seems to be quite the responsibility. Strickler’s nickname is suiting, honestly. Except you’ve got the weight of two worlds on your back. And you’ve been doing a pretty damn good job of holding them up, if I say so myself.”

Jim’s breathing had settled to a normal pace, and the glow had dimmed enough so that he couldn’t see it on Claire’s face anymore. She pulled him into a hug, and he slowly returned it.

“Lemme get you a wash cloth,” Claire rose from the bed, but before she left the room she turned back to Jim, “it’s okay to be vulnerable in front of me. I’m here for you.”

Jim nodded, and smiled. He was tremendously grateful he didn’t have to be the Trollhunter alone.

**Author's Note:**

> gosh i hope you liked it  
> i don't write fics often but i would like to get more into it  
> i'm usually horrid at keeping in character but my friend wondla (wondlalovin on tumblr) beta'd for me  
> i would appreciate prompts if you'd be so kind, but you obviously don't have to  
> i lov u gbye


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